


Lets Get It On, Sugar

by the_eighth_sin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_eighth_sin/pseuds/the_eighth_sin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes he misses boarding school. He misses the feel of hands and mouths on his skin, fingers in his hair, whispered words of comfort and filth in his ears, a cock in his mouth."</p><p>or, as it was titled for much of its life, boarding school!Niall fic with blowjobs</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lets Get It On, Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer applies: This is fiction. Not real. It's me imposing my thoughts and feelings on constructs based on real people and should not be viewed as anything other than fiction. Please do not share this with anyone portrayed in it and we'll get along just fine. Thank you!

Niall's old life almost seems surreal now, when he is surrounded and touched and loved by the four boys who have become the most important people in the world to him.

He still remembers it, remembers waking up at arse-o’clock, morning bell ringing, the hands of his dorm mate, or whoever’s bed he had ended up in the night before, pushing him to the bathroom, watching closely as he splashes freezing water on his face and rubs the evidence of the night before from his skin.

Niall doesn’t wake up like Harry and Zayn and Liam and Louis do now though, expecting to have to get up and have breakfast and have nothing but a day of mundane normality ahead.

Niall thinks that even if this is just some elaborate dream, his life back in Mullingar will still feel like the wrong one. Obscurity wouldn't fit him, now that he's grown to enjoy the feel of the world's eyes on him.

He hardly ever wishes he could go back. Doesn’t miss the old days like Louis does, doesn’t miss his friends like Zayn, doesn’t miss his life in general like Liam and Harry do.

Sometimes he misses boarding school. He misses the feel of hands and mouths on his skin, fingers in his hair, whispered words of comfort and filth in his ears, a cock in his mouth. But then one of the lads will come by and hug him or punch him on the arm or drag him off to soundcheck and he’ll remember why he can live with the constant paparazzi and the crazy fans and the jam packed days. Because this life, these boys, are so worth losing all of that.

That isn’t to say he doesn’t dream about it sometimes. It’s not to say that he doesn’t wake up every few weeks sweating and achingly hard, with the phantom taste of sweat and skin and come in his mouth. 

It’s worse when it’s been awhile since he’s had sex. Awful when he hasn’t even had a wank in ages.

When they’re touring, it’s torturous. Night after night trapped in the tiny bunks, always surrounded by the lads. They love each other, they do, but after days of being with just them, all the time, with Harry and Louis all over each other all the time, no privacy, no time to even think about getting off, never mind actually actively doing it. It’s frustrating to say the least.

Niall almost gets used to it after a while, the constant. Fucking. Horniness.

It really peaks in May, a combination of two back-to-back shows, an eyeful of Harry and Louis backstage and the dreams that have started slipping from his unconscious mind to his conscious one.

He’ll be sitting, at a signing or in hair and makeup before an interview and suddenly he’s back, in the 2nd floor toilets, knees soaking up the chill of the stone floor, mouthing desperately at the bulge of a hard dick, hidden behind black dress trousers.

They like it when he takes his time, fingers grasping at their thighs, tie tugged loose to give him a bit of extra breathing room. They like to choke him on their cocks, gag reflex worn down after almost two years of this, but he always unbuttons his regulation shirt a bit, just enough that he can swallow them down and not feel like he’s going to suffocate entirely.

He takes them one after the other, four of them fucking his mouth and exploding down his throat. They’re all slightly different (one a bit thicker, one longer, one with a more pronounced curve) but in the end, it’s all just cock and Niall takes it the best of anyone else in their year.

(At the Brits, when they have that interview after and he and the boys are just so overwhelmed and proud of themselves, he can’t help but feel a little sick at the thought that that is what he used to be proud of most.)

They like to drag it out sometimes, send him hurrying off late to his next lesson, shirt untucked, mouth swollen, throat aching. More than a few times he’d thanked God that his blazer was long enough that it covered the bulge of his aching dick. It’s bad enough shuffling to maths with his throat fucked raw and the taste of come in his mouth without also having to contend with an obvious boner.

One of the 6th formers particularly liked to catch him on a Wednesday at first break, used to loosen his tie and one, two, three, four, five, buttons of his shirt. He liked the wiggle room, so he could press his hand inside and toy with Niall’s nipples while he fucked his mouth.

They don’t normally let him touch himself, he has to keep his hands on them at all times, nose pressed to the skin at the base of their dicks, throat spasming around them, his own cock twitching with desperate want when they won’t even let him press a palm to his crotch, will barely let him breathe as they fuck right past the back of his mouth and out again.

Mr. Harmon who teaches Chemistry once asked him if he was okay when he slipped in the door right before second bell. He caught sight of himself in one of the windows and flushed an even deeper red. How Harmon couldn’t tell is still a mystery, because Niall’s hair was a tangled mess from where one of the 6th formers had used it to tug him up and down on his cock, his mouth still shining, eyes heavy lidded with arousal and telltale rings of spit-soaked shirt ringing his nipples only half hidden by his blazer.

They thought it was funny, sucking through his shirt when they were done, watching him writhe against the wall, still swallowing down the taste of them. 

Niall remembers exactly what he said. Or rather, what he was going to say, because when he opened his mouth to explain, to garble out his excuse, he couldn’t even speak. He remembers coughing and trying to force the words past his aching throat and just nothing coming out. He remembers Mr Harmon's disapproving look, a little suspicious. Niall remembers mostly the feel of arousal flooding his every cell at the thought that he might be caught.

After that, he limited his between-lesson adventures to three. More than that and he learned that his voice would just give out and that made his life much more difficult than all those boys, who grumbled when he turned them away, knew.

He still gets the itch sometimes; will catch sight of Harry fresh from the shower, starkers and dancing through his room, or Zayn when he sneaks out for a fag (because fucking hell, it just reminds him of how nice it is to suck on things). Even Louis and Harry kissing in front of him gets him going these days. 

It's a strange sensation, more of a physical feeling than an emotion. It curls hot in the bottom of his stomach, makes him swallow, desperate for someone to just grab him and shove him to his knees, push their dick between his lips and let him suck away to his heart’s content.

He dreams then. There are hands fisted in his hair as he lies back against his pillows, with his dormmate straddling his chest, thighs working as he hammers away at Niall's mouth. He's moaning, tongue curling and sliding around unyielding skin. He knows better than to let his lips slip from where they hide his teeth. 

Some of the boys think that they’re forcing him to do this, think he doesn't love the slipslide of spit soaked flesh inside of him. But he really, really does, and he can beg so prettily if that's what they really want. He can moan No around them, teeth catching slightly on the base of their dicks when they shove him down, letting his throat relax and surprising them. 

He's always in control, no matter how it might look. He certainly has the leverage, taking straight boys with long term girlfriends and overbearing fathers, swallowing them down with a whimpermoan.

So the itch gets even worse, becomes a burning need. But Liam is Liam and Harry and Louis have each other and Zayn insists he’s straight as an arrow (even though Niall knows that straight boys enjoy a blowjob no matter if it’s some brunette with bouncy tits and a thong or him and his big blue eyes and hair still long enough that they can fist their hands in it. He’s known straight guys who prefer being blown by guys. They don’t feel as guilty getting rough with him.)

So he’s just stuck with having a wank and sucking desperately at his fingers, fingers that aren’t long enough or thick enough, but are at least enough take the edge off.

Then there’s that time when he walks in on Harry and Louis. Like, actually walks in on them fucking, bare-arse naked and whatever he was going to say is drowned out by the smack of skin on skin and Harry’s desperate moans and Louis chuckling when he forces a whine from Harry that sounds like it’s been torn from his chest. 

They both look round when the door closes though, and Louis’ hips stutter where they are fucking into Harry, shooting Niall a wicked grin and picking back up again when he sees the way Niall’s knees buckle and blood rushes to his dick uncomfortably fast. 

Niall, where he’s fallen to his knees in the middle of the room, is at the perfect height to see Harry’s straining cock, pulsing red and thick and Niall groans because that phantom taste is back, sitting at the back of his mouth. 

He wants it so much in that moment, wants to scoot forward and just duck his head and suck him down and not think about the consequences of blowing Harry. Louis’ Harry. His bandmate Harry. His best mate. 

And then Louis says, “Alright Nialler?” and flicks his fringe away from his eyes. It’s so normal that it almost forces Niall to his feet and back out of the door, except Niall is achingly hard, pressing painfully against the zip of jeans and he’s not entirely sure his knees would hold him if he stood up at this second.

So instead he nods and just sits there, slumped on the hotel room floor watching Louis fuck Harry like they’re watching telly or playing Mario Kart. It’s so weirdly normal that when Louis comes all Niall does is twitch a little, like he wants to get up and stroke down the length of his spine. 

He rolls off of Harry, looking dazed and Niall whimpers, out and out fucking whimpers. That gets both their attention again and then Niall catches sight of Harry’s dick again, flushed even darker than before and he starts begging.

“Haz. Lou. God, please. Please can I just... Oh my God. I really want to. Can I? Please. I just...” and he gestures helplessly and they both still look confused so he stops and takes a deep breath.

And another.

Focuses on everything but Harry and Louis and the slick skin and the smell of sex.

Tries again.

“Harry. Can I please suck you off?” and he takes his hand from where he’s been kneading at his cock and kneels up a bit more. “I just.. It’s been ages and God, I bet you taste great. You can just fuck my mouth if you want? Please.” He’s not even embarrassed, eyes flicking from Harry to Louis and back as they stare at him, mouths open before having one of their quick, incomprehensible, wordless conversations. 

And then Harry is nodding and moving down to let his legs hang off the edge of the bed and Niall is shuffling on his knees, burning for it.

God. Finally. He thinks when he finally gets his mouth on bare skin, fingers digging helplessly into Harry’s thighs and tongue slicking quickly across the head, gathering up the taste to store away and he sinks down, down, down, moaning when Harry gasps.

“Lou, Niall, fuck. This isn’t going to take long.” Niall gags a bit on the first proper downstroke. It’s been a really long time and while he’s marvelling at the taste and the texture and the heat he forgets that he hasn’t had anything pressing down his throat like this in a while. He splutters, pulling back and coughing, “Harry. Harry you can fuck my mouth. I mean it. I want it.”

Harry pushes a hand into Niall’s hair, fingers curling and tugging and Niall almost comes at that, gets distracted when Harry drags him back down with a groan, pressing in past his gag reflex. 

Niall forces himself to relax, to swallow past the thick length brushing the back of his throat. He recalls when he first started doing this, back in the 2nd floor toilets and he had to will his throat to relax against the invasion.

Fuck he missed this.

It really doesn’t take long at all, a few minutes at most. But then, Niall supposes that being fucked like Louis was fucking Harry minutes before would make you desperate, desperate enough to need just that little bit more to push you over.

Niall moans again, swallows quickly, slumping back as soon as Harry lets go of his head to lean over and kiss Louis, who is staring down at Niall a bit stunned.

Niall wipes at his mouth and grins, cock still hard but that deep down itchburn gone for the first time in ages. Louis starts laughing then and Harry joins in, tension bleeding out of the room and taking them back to normal without a word.

It’s not weird the next day, when they all pile onto the bus and eat breakfast huddled together. It’s not weird when Louis and Harry start necking again in front of them all. It’s not weird when they sprawl out that night, piling onto the sofa and staring blearily at whatever monster movie Zayn’s shoved in. It’s just not weird.

And the next time Niall gets the itch, the pull in his stomach and the stiffness in his dick, he goes straight to Harry and Louis. They don’t ask any questions when he falls to his knees and begs.

**Author's Note:**

> As always I owe mechanical_rain a hell of a lot, she kicks my bum on a regular basis and is the reason I even have any words to give to you all.
> 
> I hope you liked it :)


End file.
